


Prize

by cleo (miri_cleo)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Arranged Marriage, F/F, Femslash, Kink Meme, Non-Consensual, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Women In Power
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2013-09-14
Packaged: 2017-12-26 14:29:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/967039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miri_cleo/pseuds/cleo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Fifth Annual Femslash Kink Meme prompt "Game of Thrones: Cersei/Dany, arranged marriage."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prize

**Author's Note:**

> This is more of a TV verse to date (Sep 2013) or early on in the ASoIaF books AU.

“And what did you expect, then?” Cersei asked as she clasped her hands together and admired the way the Lannister crimson covered her new bride. Slowly, she began to stalk a circle around Daenerys Targaryen. “You’ve been sold before,” Cersei paused, smirking, “Mother of Dragons.” 

When she stopped in front of Dany again, she reached for the golden lion that held the bridal cloak fast. The fabric fell heavily, and the gold thudded on the stone—but what was gold to a Lannister. Cersei leaned forward. Her bride seemed so small. “Where are your dragons now?” she whispered. 

When Daenerys’ only answer was to raise her chin, Cersei grabbed it, turning her face this way and that as she would examine a new mare. She did not shy from looking into those unsettling, purple eyes. “Oh, I know you are a dragon, my dear…a dragon in golden chains.” Satisfied, Cersei let go of Daenerys’ chin and briskly turned her by her shoulders. 

“You will always be a usurper.” The dragon’s voice was quiet but firm.

Cersei did not pause in undoing Daenerys’ laces. Here was a woman who had become accustomed to being undressed, but Cersei would not have a consort who did not have poise. “That is a tired refrain.” She jerked the laces and the heavy shell of the dress began to slump.

As the dress fell, Cersei’s eyes followed it. Daenerys’ were sun baked so that Cersei found it vulgar. She could see the gentle sculpt of muscles hardened through use—a testament to more than Daenerys’ youth.

“That does not make it any less true.”

“The sooner you accept,” Cersei began, running her fingertips over Daenerys’ shoulders as she pushed her shift off, “that your fate is to sit beside the Iron Throne, the better.”

Slowly, Daenerys turned, revealing herself to Cersei. Her breasts hung heavy but firm, nipples pert. She wore her nudity as Cersei might her crown. “You may be a queen, but you are not a ruler.”

Cersei slapped her, and she moaned softly when her hand made contact. It felt like her gown would stifle her. She blinked in Daenerys’ stare. “Get in bed. You are no blushing bride.”

“I belong to no one.”

“I am a Lannister, and you belong to me.” Cersei grabbed Daenerys’ hair and pulled her close. She had been with women before, and while her body found satisfaction in the act, Cersei could never stand the sight of simpering whores mere moments afterward. But Daenerys was different in the way she did not struggle as Cersei dragged her to the bed.

She did not cry out as Cersei twisted her hair, and she did not struggle against being pushed onto the light furs. When Cersei pushed her fingers into Dany, she felt raw heat, and she could smell her. A woman’s smell and tastethrilled her. When she had discovered her own, it fascinated her—the saltiness with a slight tang.

But Daenerys was silent and still. Cersei pushed two other fingers inside easily and caught her own breath. She scraped her fingernail over Daenerys’ clit, certain that such a tender spot was as much a weakness in the dragon girl as it was in herself. But Cersei felt her bride tremble and nothing else. Gritting her teeth, Cersei thrust once more before pulling away.

Daenerys continued to stare, but Cersei turned her back. She walked out of the room without a word, seeing no need for explaining herself. The bedding was done, and she to be away from those dark eyes. With each step she was reminded of her wetness. Cersei clenched her fists, and when she entered the throne room, she stopped short of the dais.

“Out!” Her voice rang through the room, and there was no hesitation in the retreat of footsteps. 

The throne stood before her, waiting for her, but Cersei was slow to mount it. She took her time because she could, because it was hers. And when she finally sat, she uncurled her fingers and pressed them to her lips. The blades surrounding her cradled her as she savored the scent. Leaning back, Cersei began to hitch up her skirts. It would only take a firm touch, but Cersei was gentle with herself, savoring her pleasure. She had what she wanted most, and breaking Daenerys Targaryen would most certainly come with it soon enough.


End file.
